


while I'm still here

by Bibanana



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Mary knows, Movie Night, Pining, Pining Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is a Bit Not Good, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28185330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibanana/pseuds/Bibanana
Summary: Sherlock is hardly holding it together after John and Mary's wedding an is having a really hard time on his own. One day, John calls Sherlock, asking if he wants to see a movie with him.-Alternatively:Sherlock admits something to Mary that he thought he would never say out loud.
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	while I'm still here

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a conversation I had with my friend [Hedgehogs_and_Rainbows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedgehogs_and_Rainbows) at 2 AM a few weeks ago. I hope you enjoy it!

A movie.

It had been months since the wedding, not a word from John, and now he wanted to see a movie together?

“Like… like at the cinema?” Sherlock pressed the phone into his cheek, his heart thumping loudly. They had done that once. Gone to see romance, of all things. A man fell for a woman, nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it had been a good movie. Maybe it hadn’t. Sherlock couldn’t remember any specifics. He had been more focused on his leg brushing against John’s, on John’s breathing in the dark, quiet room.

He wasn’t sure he could bear that, not after all this time. Not now that everything’s different.

“No, I was thinking I could come over to your place.” John responded. Sherlock winced at the wording. ‘ _ Your place.’ Not our place. It’s not ours anymore. _

“You… come here?” Sherlock couldn’t decide if that was better or worse.

“Yeah. Just like old times.”

Sherlock paused. Old times.  _ The ‘old times’ are gone, John. You chose her, not me, _ he wanted to say.

John took the pause to mean Sherlock didn’t recall the old times. “Remember? My birthday, a few years back. My last one before…” John’s breathing hitched.  _ Before you killed yourself. _ “We watched Bond. S’pose you’d have deleted that by now, though.”

“I remember.” Of course Sherlock hadn’t deleted it. He didn’t delete anything important.

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds, listening to each other breath into the microphone.

John spoke first. “So I’ll be over ‘round nine?”

“Right, yes. I’ll be here.” Not that Sherlock had anywhere else to be.

“Great, see you then.” John hung up.

***

Sherlock paced around the flat, his fingers fidgeting nervously with the buttons on his shirt. He was itching for his violin, but couldn’t seem to stand still long enough. He used to be able to play while walking, but had lost that skill during his years away dismantling Moriarty’s network, during which he had no access to a violin and hadn’t bothered to reteach himself. He could hardly see the point of playing at all now that he had no one to play for.

He wondered when he had become so attached. When it had become so hard for him to live by himself. He had been living on his own for years before John, and it had been easy. He had the work, and the work was the only thing that mattered. He got himself clean, even quit smoking, and was reducing London’s crime rates greatly. Things were good. He wasn’t happy, per se, but he was okay. At any rate, he was better than he was now.

He heard a knock at the door and froze. “It’s open,” He managed. He took a breath and raked a hand through his curls. It was going to be fine.

John opened the door, baring a friendly smile. He was wearing a plaid shirt and jeans that were a little too tight. Sherlock didn’t recognize the shirt. It must be new. Maybe Mary bought it for him. 

Their eyes met. “Hey, Sherlock,”

“John. Hello.”

John took his jacket off and hung it up on the wall, next to Sherlock’s coat. Where he always used to hang it up.

John opened the door a little wider. Mary walked in and Sherlock’s entire body tensed.

She hung her own coat on top of John’s, covering it completely and walked forward. “Hello, Sherlock.” Her pink lips curved into a small grin. She leaned in and planted a kiss on each of Sherlock’s cheeks in greeting. Her floral perfume suffocated him. “I hope you don’t mind, I came too. Molly’s watching Rosie.”

Sherlock forced a smile. “Of course not, Mary. Please, both of you, have a seat. I made tea.”

Mary sat first, on the very end of the sofa. John followed suit, taking a seat next to her. Sherlock bit his lip. This would mean he would have to sit next to John. It was a small sofa, not really meant for three people. He would no doubt be pressed against John. It was going to be a long night.

Sherlock poured the tea with shaking hands and tried not to think about the teacups he was using. In a bout of frustration over a case, Sherlock had hurled one of these very cups into the wall, causing it to shatter, sharp pieces of ceramic flying everywhere. John had shouted at him and instead of apologizing, which was obviously the sensible thing to do, Sherlock had shouted back. John eventually sighed and muttered  _ “Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you” _ before storming out of the flat. He hadn’t returned until night. Sherlock regretted that now. He regretted everything he had done to frustrate John. Sometimes he wondered if he hadn’t been such an obnoxious arse to live with, would John still have left?

“Sherlock,” John’s voice cut through Sherlock’s thoughts. “You okay mate?”

Sherlock glanced down and realized the teacup was starting to spill over. “Yes, fine, I’m fine.”

Sherlock finished pouring the tea and joined them on the couch. He pressed himself into the side of the couch, trying to scoot as far from John as he could manage. Still, their knees brushed.

“Tea’s incredible,” Mary noted. She grabbed the remote and flicked through a streaming service Sherlock couldn’t remember getting. Eventually she landed on a World War II drama and glanced over at them. Sherlock shrugged. He couldn’t care less what they watched.

“I think I read a review about that one. Should be good.” John said.

Mary started the movie and Sherlock watched a silverfish crawl across the wall, trying to ignore his racing heart.

The movie turned out to be about a gay genius. How ironic. At least the gay genius in the movie wasn’t desperately and hopelessly in love with someone he would never be able to have.

About half way through, John fell asleep. Sherlock couldn’t help but watch him. He looked so calm in his sleep. But more than that, he looked familiar. There had been a strange sadness echoing around him ever since Sherlock had returned. The aftermath of losing a best friend, he supposed. John had never been a particularly light, happy person. It was in his nature to be a little tense. But before the fall, he had been freer, joked more, laughed more. This was the first time in over two years that Sherlock really felt like he recognized him.

“He had a long day at work.”

Sherlock’s head snapped up to find Mary looking at him. He had almost forgotten she was there. “Hm?” If she was talking about the movie, he hoped she wasn’t looking for an intelligent response. He hadn’t been paying attention.

“John. He had a long day at work today. I didn’t expect him to stay awake through the whole thing.”

“Ah.” Sherlock turned his attention to the movie, hoping to end the conversation but he felt her gaze linger on him.

Mary took a breath. “I know.”

“You know what?” Sherlock asked, in a voice nearly a whisper. He didn’t take his eyes off of the television.

Mary glanced at John, making sure he was fully asleep. “I know how you feel about him.”

Sherlock didn’t respond.

“Sherlock” she said, a little forcefully. She was looking for him to answer, to confirm her observations.

“John is my friend.” Sherlock struggled to breathe. He had been so good about keeping his distance, about making sure no one could see. He had tried so hard.

“Yes, but you wish he were more than that.” Mary urged.

Sherlock whipped his head around to face her, looking into her observant, icy blue eyes. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply,” he hissed “but John is purely my friend. That is all. Now I would appreciate if-”

“Sherlock, it’s okay.” She said softly.

His eyes widened. “What?”

“It’s okay.” She repeated. “I’m not angry with you.”

“Wh- what about this is  _ okay _ ?” He realized he was on the verge of yelling. He looked nervously at John, making sure he hadn’t woken and lowered his voice. “How did you know?”

Mary gave a small smile. “It’s a bit obvious, Sherlock. I see the way you look at him. I know because I look at him the same way.”

The detective leaned back, running hand across his face. “I would never- I didn’t mean to-” He said in a broken voice, struggling to find the right words. Eventually he settled on, “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She reached across her sleeping husband and grabbed Sherlock’s hand. “I know you are.”

He tried to take back his hand, but her grip tightened. “Now, Sherlock,” Mary said seriously. Her eyes were wide and pleading. “I need you to promise me something. Can I have your word that while I’m still here you won’t do anything?”

Sherlock nodded. “I swear.”  _ It’s not like John feels the same way. _

Sherlock realized that the movie had ended. Mary released his hand and sighed. “Well, we better better wake him up. I don’t want to keep Molly waiting.”

“Wait-” He squeezed his eyes shut. “You won’t tell him.”

“Of course not.”

Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief and got up to take the teacups into the kitchen. He listened to the murmurs coming from the living room over the sound of the water running.

“Time to get up, love. The movie’s over.” Mary said kindly

John grunted. “Did I sleep through the whole thing again? Christ, I do that a lot. I’m sorry.” He paused. “Where’s Sherlock?”

“In the kitchen. Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late and poor Molly’s still watching Rosie.”

“Right. Erm. Bye Sherlock!” He called.

Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to respond

“I’m sure he’s busy. We better hurry, there might be traffic.”

There wouldn’t be traffic, not at 11:30 PM on Friday. Sherlock silently thanked Mary for not having him say goodbye. He wouldn’t be able to face John and pretend like everything was fine.

It wasn’t until he heard their cab drive away that he let breathe. He sank to the kitchen floor., wrapping his arms around his legs and sobbed silently, his cheeks glistening with tears. He stayed like that for a while, before eventually drifting off right there on the tiled floor. Needless to say, Sherlock didn’t get much sleep that night.

***

**Seven months later**

Sherlock stared at the television screen, then at John, noticing a small tear finding its way down his cheek.

“I know who you are,” came Mary’s voice from the recording. “And when I’m gone, I know what you could become.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but remember what Mary had told him all that time ago.

_ ‘while I’m still here, you won’t do anything’ _

Sherlock gently placed his hand on John’s leg. Both of their worlds’ had been turned upside down in the last 24 hours. Maybe John wasn’t ready for Sherlock to be anything more than a friend to him yet and maybe he never would be. That was okay. Sherlock had made a vow to always be there for him and was determined to never fail at that again. He would always be there for John, in whatever way he needed him to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, that was an Imitation Game reference. Kudos and comments are always appreciated :)  
> [Come say hi on Tumblr!](https://consultingravenclaw221b.tumblr.com/)


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